


Moments Spent Elsewhere

by rumbelle_af



Category: Lost, Once Upon a Time (TV), Stargate Universe
Genre: So much crossover, Some Fluff, Some angst, The Dark Castle (Once Upon a Time), oceanic 815
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-11-28 18:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11423262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumbelle_af/pseuds/rumbelle_af
Summary: Regina’s curse scattered the inhabitants of the Enchanted Forest all over our world. Belle and Rumple have been separated and cursed. Belle is Claire Littleton, a young mother who seems to have drawn the short straw in life. Rumple is Dr. Nicholas Rush, a cranky, lonely professor who might just be the key to saving the survivors of Oceanic 815





	1. The Dark Castle

**Author's Note:**

> a whole lot of crossover and retcon, but hey it's fanfic. I know more about the SG-1 stargate, so I'm going to be using those elements while still having Rush in there.

From the doorway, the Dark One watched his little maid. With one hand, she held a book, reading as she walked; her other hand held a feather duster, occasionally flitting over some trinkets as she went. He watched as her lips moved as she read, although she didn't utter a word. Rumplestiltskin made not a sound as he approached Belle from behind. He peered over his shoulder at her book, edging further into her field of vision. With a shriek, Belle threw both book and duster into the air and spun to face the intruder. 

A strong hand grasped her wrists, preventing a nasty fall, and hauled her body forward.

"Rumplestiltskin! You scared me half to death!" 

"Distracted by books again, I see. No wonder my castle is looking dusty again," he answered with a smirk. "What will it take to motivate you, princess?"

Belle pondered his question, a grin forming on her face. Her blue eyes sparkled as she took a step towards the sorcerer, closing the distance between them. 

"I think," she started slowly, the tip of her tongue darting out to wet her lips, "a kiss would do the trick."

"As my lady wishes," Rumplestiltskin conceded, his voice low and gravelly. Belle shivered at his words, a pleasant chill that raised the fine hairs on her arms. He loosened his grip on her wrists and slid his hands to gently grasp her shoulders. Her eyes closed as he leaned his face towards hers; he lingered only a moment longer before following suite and kissing her fully on the lips. A small whimper escaped Belle's lips when he finally pulled away for air. Their faces remained close, breathing the same air, not willing to part just yet. Belle nuzzled her face into Rumplestiltskin's chest, her arms going around his slim frame and pressing herself firmly against him.

"I missed you, husband," he heard her mutter. She didn't need to say anything more for him to know that they should be elsewhere. With a thought, he whisked them away to their bed, clothes banished along the way. Rumplestiltskin pulled the thick fur over them, allowing Belle to use his chest as a pillow. His dark nails traced lazy circles over her back as he felt her body relax. "I can hear you thinking."

"Just business, sweetheart," he insisted. 

"No, you've got your 'deep thinking' face on. What's going on, Rumple?"

"The Charmings, the deal they called on me for," he began to explain. "They asked for a vial of the Sands of Time. Regina is going to cast her curse soon and they fear being separated from their daughter."

"Well, that's understandable, Emma is only a few months old. Why do they need the Sands of Time?"

"To age her. She'll be a full-grown adult when the curse hits and they'll be able to find her in whatever world we're taken to."

"What did you ask for in return?"

"I didn't. I told them I wasn't interested in their deal, no matter their offer. They have nothing I want or can't get for myself."

"So, what's really bothering you?" Belle asked. Rumplestiltskin sighed deeply and pulled her even closer.

"It's the curse. Regina's changed it, added things," he admitted. "She's hidden it from me, my magic. I can't see what she's doing and... I'm afraid, Belle. I'm afraid that I won't be able to protect you, or even find you in this other world."

Belle was at a loss for words. The revelation of their True Love had presented its own challenges. After a few months of tedious magic, the Dark One had finally produced a protection spell of sorts, allowing Belle to kiss him without risking his power. He stored this magic in a ring he wore, a moonstone that was quite elegant as opposed to his dragon hides. The walls he had built around his heart took more time, though. Honesty was at the forefront of getting past the walls, and it had been difficult for them both. Of all the things he had confided in his wife, fear was not one of them. The spinner's lack of courage would've been understandable, but the Dark One was supposed be beyond fear, beyond love, and beyond failure. 

Belle propped herself up on her elbows and gazed down at her husband.

"If two people are meant to be together, they will find a way," she promised. "I love you, Rumplestiltskin and I will always be with you, in this world, and every other one out there."

"Oh, Belle," he whimpered and pressed his forehead to hers, "I love you too."

Belle awoke the next morning alone. She didn't know how long he'd been gone, but she knew Rumplestiltskin was up in his tower, trying to figure out Regina's new curse. There was strength in the Queen's power, and a cunning that rivaled even Rumplestiltskin. Somehow, she was changing the curse. Belle let her husband work till after lunch time uninterrupted, only leaving trays of food by his workroom door. His boots rang across the flagstones of the kitchen floor as he finally came down, just in time for tea. 

"Any luck, Rumple?"

He grunted a response, which told Belle all she needed to know. As she stood over the stove, she felt his arms wrap around her waist as he buried his face in her hair. Having her in his arms and being utterly surrounded by her scent always seemed to calm the Dark One, and Belle felt him relax against her. 

"I will figure it out, Belle, I promise."

"You work too hard, Rumple. Go wait for me and I'll bring some tea, okay?"

He made a noise of assent and kissed her cheek before leaving. Belle remained in the kitchen for a few minutes more, finishing preparing the tea and plating some peach tarts. As she made her way to the Great Hall, she felt a chilly breeze blow through the halls. Surely Rumple hadn't opened a window in this cold weather, she mused. A quick scan of the room showed that her husband was nowhere in sight. Fear tingled in her spine as she cautiously proceeded into the room. 

"Rumple?"

"He's not here," a man's voice came from behind her. Belle spun at the sound, and came face to face with a knight. The emblems on his armor indicated that he was sent by the Charmings. "Do you wish to see him?"

Belle nodded and the man signaled to more unseen men, who dragged a stiff Rumplestiltskin between them. A shimmering blue covered his green skin - squid ink.

"What do you want with us?"

"The Dark One has been commanded by his king and queen, and he willfully neglected to obey. Your marriage is no secret anymore, Lady Belle; you shall be his motivation," the knight informed her. Though frozen, Rumple watched the whole thing. The knight drew a knife from his belt and slashed a line across Belle's middle, smiling as she crumpled to the floor. "Take him away."

More men appeared and carried Belle's body behind them. The trip was a blur of rough handling and men shouting, periodically dosing him with more squid ink. The cell he was tossed in was more of a cave, its bars warded with magic. When he regained his mobility, Rumplestiltskin instantly attempted to hurl a fireball towards the bars, but to no avail. Retreating to the back of the cell, the Dark One stood with his hands behind his back, waiting.

**

"You're sure she'll be okay?"

"Yes, your Highness, it was not a deep wound. A scar perhaps, but no other damage," the knight informed his Prince.

"Very good. Go back to your post outside my daughter's room, we'll be back shortly."

The knight bowed and set off to fulfill his command. Charming turned to face his wife, who was worrying by his side.

"What if the curse comes before we can get back? What if we never get what we need? Charming, I will not be separated from my daughter."

"Don't worry, Snow, the Dark One will give us what we need."

The walk down into the cave was dark and musty. A few guards had been posted inside, one leading them by torchlight to the end of the cavern. When the cell came into view, Charming ordered the guard to leave them.

"Well, if it isn't Snow White and Prince Charming!" the Dark One shrilled. "What do you want?"

"The magic we asked you for. Give it to us!" Snow demanded.

"Sorry, dearie, it doesn't work like that. If it's to be a deal, you have to have something I want. And you don't."

"We have this," Snow pulled a length of fabric from inside her voluminous cloak, a flash of blue catching Rumple's eye.

"Where did you get that?" he snarled. When he noticed the flecks of blood on it, he grew enraged. Pounding his fist against the bar, he reached out for the cloth. "What did you do to her? Where is she?"

"She's here, under our protection," Charming was quick to try to calm Rumplestiltskin. "And you can see her after you give us what we need."

Rumple quickly reached into his vest and pulled out a small vial. Holding it up for the Charmings to see, he held out his free hand, silently asking for the fabric. Snow tossed it to his waiting hand, and he tossed the vial to the prince.

"Bring her to me," Rumple demanded.

"I can't do that, Dark One. She's dead, her injury was too severe," Snow White lied. "Goodbye, Rumplestiltskin. May Regina's curse show you no mercy."

The royals parted without another word, leaving Rumplestiltskin alone with his thoughts. Slowly, he brought the scrap of cloth to his face and inhaled deeply. A sob erupted from him, forming into anguished screams. Despite being underground in a cave, the cries of a brokenhearted Dark One kept the inhabitants of the castle awake the whole night.

**

Strange, distorted cries carried into Belle's room, high in the castle's tower. Her hands rested on her stomach, where they had wrapped a bandage around her middle. After being dragged from the castle, Belle had found herself in a cell on wheels, instead of a carriage. The ride to the castle had been rough, only increasing the pain of her injury. Once in the dungeon, Belle had been stripped of her bloodied clothes, bandaged, and draped in a simple gown, much like the servants wore. More guards appeared to haul her up flights of steps to the tower. She attempted to ask questions, but no one spared her a second glance. 

Now, alone in her tower, she'd never felt more scared. It was no secret that the Charmings and Rumple did not get along, but Belle had to wonder what lengths they would go to in order to get what they wanted. Her stomach lurched at the idea of her husband being tortured. 

Hours passed before a young servant girl entered the room, bearing a bowl and some bread. 

"Your cut," the lady gestured towards Belle's middle, "it wasn't so bad. The captain of the guard does more for show than for harm."

Belle nodded silently and reached for the bowl. It was half filled with some awful looking stew, which smelled oddly good. The bread was a bit hard around the edges, but still edible. Dipping the bread in the stew, Belle tested her meal.

"What are those noises?" Belle pointed toward the window, her mouth still full.

"Some are just animals. Rumor is that, tonight, it's the Dark One crying. Princess Snow told him you were dead."

Belle nearly spilled her bowl as she shot to her feet. The sudden motion caused her stomach to lurch again, and she dashed to the window just in time to spill her meager meal outside. 

"Did he know?"

"Did who know what?" Belle replied when she'd caught her breath.

"Did he know that you were with child?" the servant asked sheepishly. Belle felt herself flush at the thought that someone else knew. "No one else knows, ma'am, not even the Princess. I was just curious. Forgive me." 

The girl turned to hurry out of the room when Belle's voice stopped her.

"No, he didn't know. I never got the chance to tell him."

"I'm sorry, miss," the young girl whispered. The clanging of a bell drew their attention, followed by a commotion on the castle wall.

"It's here!! The curse, it's here!!"

Outside, Belle could see the cloud of purple and black smoke rolling over the mountains, covering the lands. Screams permeated the air, the bell continued to clang, and the servant girl ran. Belle sat at the window, watching the cloud creep closer. She placed a hand over her stomach and whispered into the abyss.

"Find me, Rumplestiltskin. Find us."


	2. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The curse has just hit and this is the first day of their cursed lives in our world. Pretty much just an intro to a handful of characters

Sydney, Australia

Claire tossed and turned in her sleep, unable to get comfortable. It was still too dark outside for it to be morning, so she decided to get up. Quietly, so as not to disturb her boyfriend, Claire slipped from beneath the covers and over to the small kitchen. Stubbing her foot on a chair, she muffled a curse before plucking a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water. 

From the corner of her eye, she noticed the bedroom light flick on, followed by the sleepy figure of Greg. Snagging a beer from the fridge, he joined her at the counter.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he ventured.

"Just couldn't sleep."

"C'mon on back, love, I've gotta get up early," Greg mumbled before kissing her temple and ambling back to the bed. Claire sighed, sipping at her water for a few more minutes before resigning herself back to the bedroom. She immediately felt her boyfriend pull her against himself, nuzzling her hair. "Go to sleep, Claire. Stop thinking so much."

Sleep eventually claimed her after what seemed like hours. Too soon, Greg's alarm clock was buzzing, drawing her from sleep. Claire decided to have a lazy morning with coffee on the couch and a cool shower afterwards. She eyed herself in the foggy mirror, her gaze settling on her stomach. Fingertips traced idly over the scar from her car accident, but settled a bit lower. The possibility of pregnancy had plagued her thoughts recently, though she wasn't brave enough to bring it up to Greg. She loved him, and she was sure of his love for her, but it still was not something they'd discussed or probably even considered. 

After a simple lunch, Claire grabber her purse and walked to the nearest hospital. The young woman at the front desk greeted her by name as she passed and Claire smiled in return. The sight of her mother hooked up to machines and an IV always churned her stomach with guilt. 

"Hey, mum, it's me. Just thought I'd drop by, see how you're doing," she started, reaching out to take her mother's hand in her own. "I wish you'd get better. I miss being able to talk with you."

Tears quickly formed in Claire's eyes, a sob erupted from her throat. She dashed the tears away with the heel of her hand and stood.

"I'll be back soon," she whispered, pressing a kiss to her mother's forehead, "I promise."

Claire hurried out of the hospital, bumping into a few nurses along the way. She didn't remember the accident vividly, just that it was her fault. Most of her life was fuzzy, but doctors said it was just a side effect from the accident that would pass in time. That was almost two months ago now. Once she reached the street, Claire inhaled deeply. The smell of hospitals was something she detested, no matter how many times she was in one. The street might smell like exhaust at the moment, but anything was better than the smell of hospitals.

She slowed her pace, watching the people she passed. Across the street, Claire saw a small drugstore. It was time to end the wondering. 

**

Berkeley, CA

The blaring of his morning alarm startled Nicholas Rush out of sleep. Muttering curses, he managed to disentangle himself from his bed sheets and amble to the bathroom. He could hear the sound of the coffeemaker starting, as it did every morning. Donning his glasses and relieving himself, he made his way downstairs. The smell of the coffee did wonders to help wake him up, but it was never enough. Only once his cup had been filled did Rush feel ready to prepare for the day. A shower, shave, and another coffee later, Rush was off. His old Ford carried him to his first day of the new school year. 

The only thing that changed at Berkeley were the students. There was the occasional genius, a few intelligent, but most were just there for the credit requirements. By now, the faces all blurred together. Nothing in his life seemed memorable anymore, not since Gloria died. Numbers were his only friend; numbers didn't judge you. 

The halls of the university were abuzz with students eager for the school year to start. Rush knew that within a week, they would all be grumbling and counting down till the end of the semester. While students filed into his lecture hall, he busied himself with writing his name and course on the chalkboard. At precisely eight o'clock, he locked the door.

"Tardiness and absences will not be tolerated without a really fucking good reason. I don't doubt that within two weeks, at least fifteen of you will drop the course or simply stop showing up. Attendance is a factor in your grade - something most of you apparently did not consider when signing up for Physics as your first class of the day. If you sleep in my class, I will count you as absent for the day. The tolerance for late work is extremely low. Every day an assignment is late, fifteen per cent of the grade will automatically be deducted. If you show up late twice, it counts as an absence. Three total unexcused absences and I will fail you. Understood?"

A murmur of assent rippled through the startled students.

"Good. Open your textbooks and let's get started."

**

Manchester, England

William Pace blinked hard against the smoke-fill air. The crowd in the pub was uninterested thus far, only a few drunkards cheering at the end of songs. His brother Liam elbowed his ribs, waiting for another song. For their final song of the night, Will started You All Everybody, their best song. The pub's regular customers moved to the now familiar tune. Scattered applause followed them off the stage as they finished, but Will felt no satisfaction in it. Liam didn't seem to mind; of course, that could be because he was high most of the time. 

"How much longer are we going to do this, Liam?"

"What do you mean, little brother?"

"Pretending like we're going to be noticed. We'e been playing these pubs for a year now - if we were going to become famous, it would've happened already."

"You worry too much, Will. We'll get there, and soon. I promise. We built Scarlet Hearts and we won't stop until they play our songs on the radio." Liam was always optimistic, but then the band had been his brain child. Will loved his brother and their little band, but things were rough. Liam was a junkie and he was trying to get Will into it too; money was tight and their gigs didn't pay much. 

Guitar safely in tow, Will and Liam headed back to their flat. Liam would pass out as soon as they got home, and Will would go back to working on a new song, hoping it would be the hit they needed to make it big.

**

Rome, Italy

"So, Mr. Kovak, what brings you to Rome?"

"Um, studying to be an exorcist, Father. I was of the understanding that Father Matthew sent word ahead that I'd be coming."

"Yes, he did. But I wanted to hear it from you. Why exorcism?" Father Xavier asked of the young man in front of him. "It's a bit of a far step from a mortician."

"Well, being a priest is kind of a family thing. The exorcist part was Father Matthew's suggestion, but I can't deny there's a certain mysterious pull towards the supernatural, unexplained part of it."

"Fascinated by demons," Xavier mused. "Tell me more about yourself, Michael."

"Um, not much really. My mother died when I was young, My father and I run the funeral home. Did some boxing in my spare time."

"Were you any good?"

"My friends started calling me 'Hook' after I won three fights that way," Michael chuckled. 

"Do you believe in the Devil, Michael?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure what to believe. We all have problems and just because some people refer to them as demons, doesn't make them demonic."

"Not believing in the Devil won't save you from him, Michael."

**

Iowa, USA

The darkness of the night provided excellent cover as Mary sneaked around the house. Even if she was caught, no one would question her presence on the property - her mom lived there. Tonight, however, she was there for her step-father. There was no understanding what her mother saw in him; he drank too much, swore too often, and his eyes wandered where they shouldn't. 

Wherever his eyes wandered, his thoughts and actions usually soon followed. More than a few times, he'd drunkenly made passes at Mary. Being drunk was also his go-to excuse as to why Diane occasionally sported large bruises. Enough was enough. Months of preparation were going to be put into action tonight.

Once everything was prepared, Mary sat on the front step, waiting for Wayne to come home. Her mother was working a late shift down at the diner, so there was no risk of her getting hurt. Hours passed before Wayne's truck finally pulled up the gravel driveway, swerving the whole time. Mary watched with disgust as he got out of the truck, nearly falling over. On unsteady feet, he made his way over to her, reeking of alcohol. His words were a mere buzz in her ears, but she registered them as his trying to get her in his bed. 

With Mary's help, Wayne was soon tucked into his own bed, alone. She hadn't bothered taking off his clothes, just his shoes. He grabbed her arm as she turned to leave, telling her once more how beautiful she was to him. But Mary didn't hear him; all she saw was the watch on his wrist, telling her it was time to go. She wrested her arm from his grip and left without a word. Her heart pounded in her chest, telling her to go back, stop this madness before it was too late. Her common sense screamed at her, but her heart stood firm. This was the only way to protect her mother from Wayne. 

Mary hesitated only for a moment before speeding away on her worn-out motorcycle. The bike carried her to the end of the long driveway before the house exploded. She felt herself jump at the explosion, but didn't turn back to watch. There was no telling how soon the cops would figure out that it wasn't an accident. 

In one moment, she had irrevocably changed her life. There was no life to be had now, only running from the law. Relief flooded Mary's heart knowing that her mother would never be hurt again at Wayne's hand. Even if she sacrificed her own freedom for it, her mother was free now. 

The distant sound of sirens prompted Mary to speed up. She had to make it to the diner quickly if she wanted to say goodbye to her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so the breakdown of the characters so far  
> Claire = Belle (no change)  
> Nicholas Rush = Rumplestiltskin (no Mr. Gold in this AU)  
> Will Pace = Will Scarlet/ Charlie (because Will and Belle were together briefly in OUAT, I made Will the "Charlie" of this crossover; Charlie's brother was Liam in Lost, so I kept that, but it has no relation to Hook's brother Liam in OUAT)  
> Michael Kovak = Hook (another of Colin's characters was an exorcist. Because Hook refers to Rumple as a demon once or twice, what better cursed persona than someone who's job it is to deal with demons)  
> Mary = Snow White (although her cursed name is going to be Mary - short for Mary Margaret- Snow is the "Kate Austen" here. Much as Snow was wanted by the queen, she's wanted as a criminal in this world too)
> 
> And yes, Claire's boyfriend Greg is the cursed-world Gaston. No, the baby isn't actually his.
> 
> All questions, comments and feedback are welcome!! Thanks for reading


	3. Down on Your Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claire and Greg are adjusting to life as expectant parents and Rush is readjusting to being a professor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot is starting to form here. We're seeing the circumstances that drive Claire to Oceanic 815 and Rush to the Stargate Program

Four months later...

Claire giggled to herself as she felt her baby kick again. Since discovering that it could kick, the little one had been consistently making its presence known all day. Although the first kick had given Claire a startle, she'd quickly grown to love the feeling. Her recent ultrasounds had shown that the baby was perfectly healthy so far, but she and Greg had opted to not know if their baby was a boy or a girl. The scans had given a new gravity to the whole situation, made everything seem more real. Claire had decided it was time to roll with the changes. 

Greg let her go her own way with the redecorating she'd started. A small crib was waiting to be assembled, the rugs were new and the furniture was reupholstered. Since they weren't allowed to paint their apartment walls, the changes were small, but they made a grand difference to Claire. Standing on a small step stool, Claire was hanging the new curtains - the last of the redecorating. 

"It's a good thing we're not very high up," she spoke to her baby bump, "chances are I'd end up on my butt on the floor! Hopefully you aren't as accident prone as your mum."

Claire made her way around the apartment, stopping at each window to hang the new curtains. As she finished each one, she stood back and admired them, hands planted on her hips and a grin on her face. Halfway through the last curtain, Greg shuffled through the door. He'd picked up a lot of hours at work to save up for the baby and it was beginning to take its toll on him. Claire watched with an endearing smile as he dropped his briefcase and fetched a beer from the fridge. With a huff, he flopped onto the bed and offered a small smile at Claire. 

"Whatcha doing, Claire?"

"Hanging new curtains, babe. Long day at work?"

"Been a long few days. Few weeks actually."

"What do you mean?" Claire set down the curtain rod and sat next to Greg on the bed.

"I can't do this anymore, Claire. This whole thing, the baby. At first I thought we could do this but suddenly it's real. I can't do this."

Claire sat silently for a moment, processing what her boyfriend was telling her. It was becoming clear that she was either going to lose Greg or her baby. Maybe he would stay if there wasn't a baby, but Claire knew there was no way she was going to be able to give up her child just to keep her boyfriend. She also knew she wouldn't be able to raise the child alone. 

"Please, don't do this, Greg. I know it's been hard but I promise, things will get better," she swore, hoping to change his mind. "Please."

"I'm sorry, Claire, but I can't. Don't ask me to do something I can't do. I can't be a father to this baby."

"You already are! What about me, am I supposed to raise it alone?"

"You don't have to. You can do whatever you want to, Claire, but you'll be doing it alone." Greg stood up from the bed and pulled his suitcase from the closet, hastily filling it with clothes. "Keep the apartment, Claire."

"No, you can't, please," she begged, standing in front of him.

"You may decide your own fate, but you can't decide mine for me. If I don't want to do this, you can't make me. Now, kindly, get out of my way."

"Where will you go?"

"Home, obviously."

"What, back to the States? You ran away, Greg! There's no one waiting for you there - your life is here now!" Claire was done appealing to his better judgment; perhaps it was time to battle with facts. "You're a coward, Greg, and no matter how far you run, you always will be."

"You had no problem with me being a coward when it was you I was running to," he sneered. Greg stalked to the door, leaving a dumbfounded Claire in his wake.

"Gregory Thomas Rose, you can't do this!" Claire yelled, but her words fell on deaf ears. The door slammed close, leaving her alone with her tears and thoughts. Flinging herself on the bed, Claire sobbed into her pillow.

***

The lecture hall was silent, save for the sound of pencils hurriedly scribbling answers. Rush eyed the students warily as he paced up and down the aisles. As much as he hated grading the exams, the professor was grateful that this was the last one he'd have to do until next semester's midterms. A grin ghosted across his face as he noticed a couple students on the verge of mental breakdown, obviously from not having studied. Even his more accomplished students hurried to write their answers, as if the solutions would escape their mind if it wasn't written quickly enough. All he had to do was wait five minutes before the cheaters began to push their luck.

Rush made his way to the very back of the room, where he could watch the entire class from behind. Thumbs tucked in his belt loops, he let his boots clack against the tile as he began pacing the aisles again. Hearing a whisper behind him, Rush spun on his heel, catching two students passing a paper between themselves. Their heads snapped up as Rush turned to them, vainly attempting to hide what they were doing.

"Give it to me," Rush demanded, holding out his hand. When the young man did not hand over the paper, Rush slammed his hand on the desk, causing the rest of the students to jump. Pencils stilled as they watched the professor loom over the two students. "Give me the damn paper, Charles."

Reluctantly, Charles handed over the paper. The class watched as Rush unfolded it and scanned its contents. 

"Cheating is thoroughly frowned upon in all stages of life, young men. But cheating on a final exam will get you swiftly dismissed from this university," Rush stated calmly. He gathered their unfinished exams, commanding them to remain in their seats. Only when the exam was over did he escort them to the dean's office, handing over the exams and the cheat sheet. After taking a look at the papers for himself, the dean looked between the guilty young men and their professor.

"Professor Rush has always been a fair instructor. Harsh, sometimes, but fair. You boys have had a full semester to get accustomed to his teaching methods; there is absolutely no excuse for this. What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Neither boy met the dean's stern gaze or spoke up.

"Get out of my university, boys. You should both receive papers in the mail, formal notification of expulsion. Zero credits accrued this semester, and you will not be permitted back as a student here. Congratulations on wasting not only Professor Rush's and my time, but your own too. I as disappointed. Get out."

Charles was quick to grab his backpack and scurry towards the door; his companion, Thomas, stood slowly, giving a pointed look at the dean.

"My father is going to hear about this," Thomas sneered before stalking out, the door slamming behind him. The dean exhaled heavily as he settled back into his chair.

"Well, Nicholas, you certainly haven't lost your touch. I'm a touch surprised you haven't sent someone to me sooner. Don't tell me you've gotten soft in your time away."

"Government work is hardly enough to soften me up, Hugh. All I can say is that I see things differently now."

"Hmm, I can tell," Hugh chuckled. "How are you holding up? I know it's been a few years now, but something like that doesn't disappear overnight."

"Grading shitty term papers gives me something else to think about."

"Go home, Rush. Papers can wait until tomorrow."

Professor Rush nodded silently and shuffled back to his office. Glancing around the room, he felt suddenly exhausted. His heart suddenly skipped a beat, making him lean heavily on his desk. The feeling passed in a flash, but left an empty feeling in his gut. Rush left all his papers on his desk, vowing to return tomorrow to get them. Hastily, he made his way outside, lighting a cigarette as soon as he passed through the doors.

Taking a long drag on the cigarette, Rush let the nicotine soothe his nerves. Something inside was still nagging at him, but he brushed it off as the dean stirring up thoughts he'd buried long ago. No, he'd never really be over Gloria. Nicholas Rush did not believe in true love, but that was the only description he could come up with for the woman who held his heart. He knew of only three ways to handle the pain: drinking, working, or Cassie. The blonde lady of the night was the closest he had to a companion. Whenever Rush picked her up and took her home, he'd have her shower, lightly spray Gloria's perfume on, and hold each other. He paid her to be someone to hold, nothing more. Some nights, it helped; other nights, the hole in his heart just got bigger, knowing she was not Gloria. 

Rush didn't remember getting in his car or driving to Cassie's usual corner, but he couldn't bring himself to ask for her company today. Mumbling an apology, he handed her twenty dollars for a hot meal and drove away. The closing of the front door echoed through the empty house, followed by the soft patter of paws. Rush noticed the small head peaking around a door frame.

"And where the fuck have you been, Tesla?" he chided the cat. "Two days I don't see you."

The cat meowed softly and approached, arching its beige and white back as it rubbed against his leg. The stray cat showed up at his front door two months ago, yowling for food and attention. One of its ears was slightly mangled, but otherwise it showed no history of bad owners. Still, Rush had no idea why the cat chose him, but it wasn't deterred by his snarky attitude.

"Yeah, yeah, I missed you too," Rush chuckled. "Alright, let's see what's for dinner."

***

When Claire opened her eyes, the sun had already set and a few stars dotted the sky. She didn't remember falling asleep, but then again, she didn't want to think about the past afternoon. Wiping her sleeve across her face, Claire ambled out of bed and to the kitchen. There wasn't much in the fridge that was appealing to a pregnant woman. Settling for leftover seafood, Claire plated the food and microwaved it. A curious scratching at the apartment door caught her attention. When it persisted, Claire approached the door and peered through the peep hole, but spied nothing. Claire turned to return to the kitchen, the scratching returned.

Claire opened the door just a crack, enough to peek out, but still saw no one. A tiny meow drew her attention downward, where a tiny grey kitten sat. Perched on its haunches, it sat contentedly, staring up at her. Letting out another tiny meow, the kitten begged for entrance. As gracefully as she could, Claire bent to pick up the kitten and held it close, scratching lightly between its ears. 

"At what shall we call you, little one?" 

Another tiny meow.

"No, I don't think that suits you at all. Mittens?"

The kitten let out an unsatisfied meow.

"Lumiere, then," Claire decided. "Yeah. Lumiere. You are just in time for dinner - and you're in luck! Seafood is on the menu tonight."

Claire kept Lumiere cuddled against her chest and carried the plate of leftovers in her free hand. Settling on the bed, Claire fed the kitten from her hand. Lumiere noticed the slight swell of her stomach and bumped his head against it, purring softly.

"Yup, that's my baby. It's still going to be a little while before it's born. Kinda glad for that, I'm not ready right now. Might be a little before I am ready. Greg bailed on us. Part of me thinks he's going to show up tomorrow morning, begging for forgiveness."

Lumiere meowed and licked her fingers, hoping to find more food.

"I don't know, Lumi. I know I shouldn't forgive him, but I need someone. I can't do it alone. Maybe I should look into adoption. I just...I don't know that I could live everyday wondering what my child grew up to be. If mum were around, she'd know what to do. Of course, she probably would've talked some sense into me before I got involved with Greg. Bloody Americans." 

Lumiere yawned and stretched lazily before claiming Greg's old pillow. Smiling to herself, Claire gave him one last scratch between the ears before burrowing under the covers.

***

Rush sat at the far end of the bar, nursing his second whiskey. The few other patrons paid him no heed and Rush paid no heed to them. He only cast a sideways glance at the man who sat on the bar stool next to him. 

"Mitchell."

"Rush," the young man countered. "What makes you buzz my phone at this hour?"

"I want back in. I've been trying this civilian thing for the past five months and it's just not working. I need to go back."

"I'll talk to the colonel but there's no promises. He'll probably recommend a psych eval first anyway," Mitchell forewarned. "Are you sure you're just not lonely?"

"Piss off," Rush growled. Being defensive was his natural reaction when someone knew his downfalls. As true as it was, he would never admit that he was lonely. Cats were nice and all, but real companionship was lacking in his life now. 

"What, do you think that the girl for you is on one of those plants we haven't visited yet? You can't bring home an alien, Rush, no matter how human she is."

"I know that, dammit. But I need to go back. This - all of this," Rush waved an arm to encompass the bar, "none of it matters in comparison to the things we've seen and done."

"If, in the morning when you're sober, you're still serious about this, give me another call. I'll talk to my superiors and let you know," Mitchell relented and vacated his bar stool, leaving Rush alone once more. Rush ordered another drink and sipped at it slowly, daydreaming of going back to the Stargate Program.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rush has spent time in the SG program before, then resigned and when back to teaching (which is where the curse starts) and now wants back into the program. Believe me, there's an explanation and a reason for everything in future chapters. 
> 
> If y'all want, you can submit prompts. They can be for either the characters 'pre-flight 815' (where we are now) or future chapters that deal with the crash and everything afterwards.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feedback and questions always welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> so, how's the first chapter?


End file.
